Know Thyself
by conjure-at-your-own-risk
Summary: A heroic age passed, but they still stand. Part One of the Ages-Verse.


**AN: Please leave a review before adding it to your favorites. Just a quick mini-one-shot I wanted to do. And thanks to the Ghost Writers for helpful ideas and for pointing out some errors. **

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><p><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: Last time I checked I am a female brunette. Nice try, but I know that I'm not Rick Riordan.

**Title**: Know Thyself

**Word Count**: 813

**Summary**: A heroic age passed, but they still stand.

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><p><em>γνῶθι σεαυτόν<em>

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><p>I never knew what compelled me to visit a graveyard.<p>

Maybe it was because of old age, I was almost hitting a century. Or the more obvious reason would be being a son of Hades, reminding me that I would never leave his realm soon.

What cheerful thoughts I have.

It was one of those horribly sunny days. The type that could be filled with bird songs, rainbows, and smiling children frolicking with bunnies. It was a horrible day for a funeral. I watched from a stone bench as a young boy saw his mother being lowered into the earth. The boy's face was pinched, his eyes never leaving. He yanked his blue tie off and stormed away.

"di Angelo," a voice suddenly said next to me.

I tightened my grip on my cane, and my old heart skipped a beat. I turned to see Lord Poseidon sitting next to me, his mortal appearance aged and weathered. He was playing with a familiar pen in his hands.

"Uncle," I said, gritting my teeth at the overpowering smell of seaweed. "What do I owe you of this social visit?"

The god didn't answered. He looked to where the angry boy was, his expression softening into concerned. "How long has it been?"

The answer was automatic. "Almost a score." A sudden image of Percy's grave rose in my mind. It was a merciful death, died while surrounded by doting grandchildren and ready to see Annabeth again.

I was the last of our merry group still alive: Annabeth fell to Alzheimer's, Jason died saving Thalia's life forty years back, Frank went to enlist in the war and never came back, Hazel left quietly, Piper died in the war, Leo passed only just last year, and Rachel…Rachel died next to me ten years ago. Being surrounded by death never prepared me for waking up next to her lifeless body.

"It doesn't get any easier," I said softly. "It feels like I'm surrounded by their ghosts."

"Do you know how they are faring down there?"

"All fine and in Elysium. Some are even trying for a second life." Poseidon sighed, the sunlight catching grey streaks in his hair. "You never did told me why you are here," I reminded him. "I may be old, but I'm not losing my memory."

The funeral was ending, the boy returned with tears on his face. There was something about him, something puzzling. I let my focus grew and concentrated on him only. His life force appeared and I saw the familiar shade of green-blue. I gasped, my vision returning to normal.

"My son needs you," the god said. "I'll claim him once he's within safety of Camp. Please, di Angelo," his voice sounded desperate. "Help my son." He handed me Riptide, the plastic disguise cracking and paint that chipped away ages ago.

I held the pen with mixed emotions. Has it really been that long since I've seen Percy wielding it? Old memories rose back up, I could see Percy asking Bianica and I if we were okay. I could see the battles we had fought together. Riptide helped Percy become the hero that he was meant to be. It helped all of us become something more. Picturing a version of Percy without his sword was like Annabeth without her invisibility hat-our weapons were a part of us.

Besides, maybe this will be a way of becoming even? He helped me become that man that I was today so many years ago, so I might as well do the same for him.

"I promise on River Styx." The ground rumbled at my promise. Poseidon nodded, looked again at his son, and vanished.

I sat there for a few minutes, feeling much older than I had during the start of the conversation. I stood up with some difficulty with my cane and hobbled to where Percy was. He looked so young and innocent. His dark hair combed for the occasion, green eyes dim at seeing his mother's grave. There was no scars, no injures, just a young boy that lost his mother.

"Hello," my voice sounded dry and raspy.

Percy tried not to gawk at my appearance. I'm afraid that age has not been kind to me. I truly look like a skeleton of my former self. There was a faint glimmer of recognition in his eyes, and then it vanished quickly. He wiped away the tears from his face with the sleeve of his suit. "W-who are you?"

"You may not remember me, but I remember you." I gave him his pen; he took it looking very confused. I leaned heavily on my cane. "My condolences for your mother, but I have something very important to tell you."

Life moved on that day.

And a hero returned.


End file.
